It's Not Worth It
by Bakura's Guardian Angel
Summary: I'd never given much thought to how I would die. He'd always protected me, so it had never become an issue. But his 'protection' has become control, and I can't live like this anymore. He can't protect me from myself. RyouPOV


**WARNINGS:** Rated T for depression/suicide theme.

A/N: This is in 1st person from Ryou's perspective. You should all probably be able to figure this out, but when Ryou says 'he' its meaning Bakura.

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_"__You have a choice. Live or die. Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice. To be or not to be.__" ~Chuck Palahniuk_

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They say that when you're close to death, you see your life 'flash before your eyes'. Well, it's not true. It may be because I'm not in any immediate danger. In fact, I'm only in danger from myself. Is that why I'm so calm? On the other hand, this is my third attempt. You wouldn't think it would be so hard to kill yourself. I suppose repetition has a way of giving death a casual edge.

Now that I'm here, though, all I can think about is why. The reason I've been driven to such extremes. You would too, you know. Don't think this is impulsive, and irrational. You probably think, "I'd never do that. Nothing could drive me _that _far." You really don't understand though. You're lucky. You don't have my problems. You'll never know what I go through every day. Every week. Every month. Every year. You don't have to deal with the emotional turmoil and the physical pain. So, yes, you might say it's irrational, but if you lived like me, you would be searching for an escape too.

And this _is _the only escape for me.

He won't, can't, kill me. I'm too valuable to him…he said so himself. So I'll go ahead and do the job for him. Maybe that will make him see that what he did to me was wrong. Maybe it will make him regret how he treated me. Maybe, but I doubt it. He doesn't feel _anything_. Only anger, hate, revenge. He isn't human... But my hope is that once I'm gone he'll begin to realize that I wasn't weak. I wasn't just a body for him to use. I was a person, and before him, I had a life. When I'm gone, he won't have a host anymore. Without me he's a wandering soul without an anchor. It's his own fault, though. I don't feel guilty about ridding him of his anchor, not in the slightest. You see, everything is his fault. He had a few problems, true, but then he went and messed up his own life...and now he's taking it out on mine.

Once again, I want to emphasize that this isn't merely impulsive. I'm not a pathetic teenager just trying to get attention. I tried. I tried to tell him. I tried to end my conflict without actually ending my life. This might be where the life 'flashing before your eyes' comes into play, because I can remember that day when I told him that I didn't appreciate how our relationship worked, and I remember every day after it, as clearly as if it had happened today.

It was a normal enough day. I went to school, I talked to people that I knew, but who weren't my friends. I don't truly have any friends…he's made sure of that. I went home and did homework. After that, I don't know what I did. My memory is completely blank…it's worse then amnesia, because I'll _never_ know. I wasn't there. That's an awful feeling, you know. Not knowing where and what you've done, but knowing that, whatever it was, it wasn't good. Because, as I mentioned,_ I_ wasn't there. But he was, he took my body and went out to do whatever he felt like doing... He does that a lot.

Apparently, he robbed a Jeweler's, because when I was given back control, I was in the police station. They were questioning me, and how was I supposed to answer? They would hardly listen to my desperate answers and my pleas for forgiveness. I don't know what he said to those police before handing the ordeal to me to take care of, but they were furious. Eventually I simply gave them the stolen gems, which were hidden in a secret pocket in my coat...and, though I'm not proud of it, I basically begged. I'm only lucky that they just gave me a fine. It could have been so much worse.

As you could imagine, I'd had enough. I was sick him stealing and me taking the blame. I was tired of people getting hurt because of me. Enough was enough. That's the day I asked him to leave. When I got back to my house I confronted him, forcing him to come out of his Soul Room through pure strength of will. It was very mentally draining, so I'd never done it before. Needless to say, he wasn't happy about it.

"I want you to go away." I had said sharply, staring him down. It was tone of voice I had never dared use around him before. And if I've ever looked him in the eye the way I did, I certainly don't remember it.

"What?" He'd asked me, his voice dangerous. Like a threat.

"I want you to _leave_! Get out and don't come back this time." The words flew out of my mouth. How long I'd been wanting to say them and had kept them inside.

There was a pause and he turned his face away. Finally he said with a smirk, "And why do I care what you want?"

"Because your plans never work and you should move on. You're ruining my life." I'd said, ranting.

I won't forget the look he gave me then. He looked at me like I wasn't even worth talking to. Like I was a waste of time. He looked at me like he had been looking at me ever since I met him. To him I was less than the dirt under his feet, I realized. I was a mild irritation. Like an ant, crawling around at his feet. That apathetic, uncaring, disdainful look shouldn't have hurt. It wasn't like it was anything new.

But it did.

I yelled at him, saying things that my parents would have severly reprimanded me for had they heard them. He stood there patiently as I let out every hurt feeling, every ounce of contained frustration and anger, directing them all at him with a hateful passion that was unfamiliar to me… It is the first time I have _ever_ stood up to him like that.

He just laughed.

"I'm touched that you would come out of your pitiful shell just for me. Honestly, it's refreshing from your usual drivel...but I'm not leaving. Deep down you know that there's no way for you to get rid of me. Your life belongs to me now. _You_ belong to me, landlord. And you're going to help me get what I want, because you vowed you would. It's a promise I intend to make you keep. Rather than continue this meaningless attempt at rebellion, you should just accept it and take your own advice. _Move on._"

He hadn't given me the chance to retaliate after that. He had disappeared into the Millennium Ring. Away from me. He knew exactly how I felt. He knew the pain he was causing me. He just doesn't care though. He only cares about himself. He only cares about getting what _he _wants.

After that I tried to get rid of him without his consent. I was determined to be rid of him, no matter what. I still am. Everything I've tried so far has failed though. It's like he's a parasite. He lives in me, he uses me. But no matter what I try to do, I can't get rid of him.

I tried to sell the Millennium Ring. I put it on every website I could find, listing it in newspapers, putting up signs. I was intent on handing it off to someone else. Let them deal with the problem. The worst part about this failure is that people were actually interested. I was close. I got eight emails, and several phone calls in reply to my ads before he found out. He took over my body and destroyed my phones and my computer. I guess I should be grateful that's the worst damage he did.

He wasn't as generous when I tried to abandon the Millennium Ring altogether by dumping it in a ditch filled with sewage and stagnant water.

I told the doctor I had crashed my bike on my way to school. I don't really think he believed me, but that's his problem. I couldn't tell him I had done this to _myself_ because I was being controlled by a 3000 year old spirit living in an Egyptian artifact. And there wasn't really any other way to explain the cuts and bruises.

My third attempt was my most daring at discarding this cursed Millennium Item. I tried to destroy it. I honestly thought that dismantling it completely would break the shadow magic in it. I took a hammer and pounded at it. I got pliers, a saw, a drill. They didn't even scratch it. I'm not sure what the Ring is made of, but it's not any metal I know of. All I succeeded in doing was crushing my finger and cutting up my hands till I was practically crippled. The pain didn't bother me though. It was a distraction from my other concerns.

I've made my final decision, the one where I plan on taking my own life, because I'm getting desperate. It has become obvious that there's no way to destroy or get rid of the Millennium Ring. And my 'condition' has only gotten worse. He locks me away in my soul room and takes my body at least every other day. I can't live like this anymore. I can't live this half-life. I don't know who I am anymore! Am I me, or him. Who has control? Nothing, nothing on this earth, could cause more misery than what I go through every day!

And so that's why I'm here. Here, alone in the dark of my room. Here, holding a small bottle of the most deadly poison available on the streets of Japan. Here, thinking about how my life has fallen apart. It will be fast, and once it's swallowed you can't stop its progression. There's no antidote. So even if someone found me, they wouldn't be able to do anything about it...not that anyone would find me. No one cares. All the same, that's the reason my other attempts have failed. I've been interrupted. I think that it was better though. Those ways were all much more painful then swallowing a bottle of toxins. And there wasn't a guarantee that they would actually end my life.

The first was classic and even I think it was rather dramatic. I went to a bridge. It was a very high bridge, and there was a fast moving river beneath it. I knew that if I didn't die on impact, the rushing waters would drown me. That time, I was scared. I was honestly, unashamedly, scared for my life. I hesitated just a bit too long, and I made a mistake. I wore the Millennium Ring. He must have sensed my fear from within the contours of my mind and simply assumed I was in danger. I did have the courage to jump…I can remember my mind, numb with cold and terror. I can remember the wind whistling past me as I fell. I can remember the shock of the freezing water as the current swallowed me. And then I can't remember anything.

I suppose he guessed that I had just fallen, because he didn't say a word to me afterwards, not that he makes a habit of speaking to me on other occasions. But I'm sure that if he knew my intentions, he would have talked to me, gotten angry with me. But he didn't. He took over, swam my body to the shore, and handed control back to me. So I don't remember getting back on land.

I was so frustrated. That's how I knew that I was _really_ going to do this, because I didn't feel relieved at being saved. I didn't feel happy or grateful. I was just angry that I hadn't succeeded. So it didn't take me long to come up with another method of taking my own life.

My second attempt at death was with a gun. I was going to shoot myself. I was worried, scared again, not about dying though. Now I was terrified of failing. I had heard about too many attempted gun suicides that hadn't worked by some miracle, or by some curse. A failed gun-suicide ended in one of two ways. Either the 'victim' went into a lifelong coma, or they were put into a hospital for an unbearably long amount of time, and were horribly disfigured, not to mention closely watched after that. I didn't want to end up in either of those situations. I just wanted everything to be gone. I want it to end so badly.

And so the horror stories weren't going to stop me. I was about to pull the trigger...but I got a phone call.

Perhaps it was only coincidence, or maybe it was fate, but it was my school counselor wondering if I was alright. I had been sluffing school, you see. I didn't have the mental strength to keep it up. There was too much going on. If I went, I knew they would see that something was wrong with me. They would see I was depressed and they might even guess that I had been thinking about suicide. People, teachers and counselors especially, are keen with that. They're good at seeing when something it off about their students. And that would crop up a whole new host of problems. They would try and get involved, try to get me mental help, and that, in the end, would lead to failure. So, the simplest solution to the problem, I'd simply stopped going. Apparently they had guessed that something about me wasn't right anyways, despite my absences. Probably because, in the past, I'd never purposely skipped school before, and I used to be a 4.0. Not anymore. Now my grades average C's and D's and I sport a fabulous 2.3 GPA.

...I suppose that it isn't too hard to guess that I'm going through some problems.

The counselor actually asked if I wanted to come and talk to her. I declined and told her that everything was fine. I don't like to lie, but if it takes a lie to get them away from me then I will. She insisted though. She was persistent, almost annoyingly so, and she was so sure that I needed some 'professional help', because what other reason could there be for my drop in grades and attendance? I told her that I was going through something, something that was affecting my education, but that I could work it out my own way. That one _wasn't_ a lie. I was dealing with a spirit, a _demon,_ ruining my life, and I would end my life to solve my problem. No professional help required.

But the phone call worked, at least to some extent, though the counselor didn't know it. I had thought about what I was doing and I couldn't pull the trigger any more. I threw the gun away. You know, I've heard that if you are doing something dangerous, or life threatening, and you think about it too much, you won't do it. Like sky-diving, or in my case suicide... Well, it's true. After you think about it, and it sinks in, you don't have the courage to actually _do _it.

Not this time. I'm going to do it. I won't hold back no matter how much I think about it. I'm done with this slavery that he puts me through. This really _is_ the best way to end it all. No blood, little evidence. When they find me, they will guess what I've done. My 'friends' will probably wish that they had paid more attention to me. But they shouldn't be sad. This is what I want. Life just isn't worth it for me. Not while he's a part of it.

And besides, it will be fast. The poison will work quickly. It only takes five minutes for the liquid toxins to get through the bloodstreams, infecting the body. Five minutes of pain. That's what the drug dealer said. He'd laughed as he told me that, making sure I understood that they would be the most miserable, horrid, pain-filled five minutes of my life. They would also be my last. He doesn't understand, of course. I've suffered torment much worse than any physical pain. The torment of not having any freedom. But still...there are those five minutes to think about my decision. And I can't help but wonder if I'll regret it. In those short five minutes, will I change my mind? Wish I hadn't done it? Maybe...maybe, but I've decided and I won't go back. No matter how scared I am (and I won't bother lying, there is a edge of fear in me right now), I can't live like this. I need the alternative.

I pull the stopper off the small bottle in my hand. The bottle is the size of my pinky. Such a small amount of liquid, but it does so much damage... My breathing is calm now, slow. I'm ready. I've thought about it, and accepted my decision. I close my eyes, and I even manage a smile despite the fear that's nagging at my insides, making me feel sick already. I don't hesitate though, and I'm proud that I can keep my hand completely steady, as I bring the tiny vial to my lips.

"Are you sure that you really want to do that?" A cold voice hisses.

I sigh and open my eyes slowly. I even bring the vial away from my mouth, although I know I should have just dumped it right then. I don't think I can win... Every attempt I make is thwarted somehow.

"Can't you leave me alone? For just _one day_?" I whisper, gazing blankly at the bottle in hand. It's a bright green vial, and the liquid inside is bright orange. The colors look strange against the pale white of my fingers, grasping limply onto the glass bottle.

"Apparently not." Bakura inclines his head towards the bottle in my hand. His face is angry, but not incomprehensively so. He isn't furious, yet. It's sort of a calm anger. He looks angry that I was endangering myself, now that I think about it. I don't allow myself to feel grateful to him for this though. He only cares about the vessel. The words that come out of his mouth are sharp. "Baka no Yadonushi... Did you _think_ about this before you decided to kill yourself, or was it just impulsive? "

I don't answer for a long time. I try to feel angry at him for interrupting me, but at this point I just feel...nothing. It's like I'm already dead. Finally I explain, "I've been thinking about this for over a month, parasite. It's not like you care. Maybe for once you should let me do what I want."

He laughs, a single barking scoff that echoes around my room unnaturally. "If you think that I'm going to allow you to commit suicide then you know nothing about me. I thought I'd made it clear that you belong to me. As my property, I decide what is best for you, and what will be done with you, including what punishments will befall you." He pauses, then says in that cold, arrogant way he has, "I don't believe you've done anything deserving of death, landlord."

Now I feel some anger. It's a spark inside me. How can he even think that I'm doing this out of, what, guilt? He thinks that I'm doing this because it's some sort of punishment? He couldn't be more wrong. I keep my eyes averted, forcing the emotions from my face. I let my voice say it all. "It's not about whether I _deserve_ it or not." I start coldly, and then I let myself meet his blood-red gaze with my own mocha brown eyes. "I want it… I'm tired of living every day locked in my Soul Room while take my body and do whatever you please. Not only that, but I take the blame for _everything _that you do! The only time _you_ ever take any responsibility is if you plan on murdering anyone who stands in your way. How many innocent lives do I have on my hands because of you? I'm so tired of...of not living. I can't handle it anymore!"

"So you'll murder yourself, add another number to the death toll."

I glare at him, putting every hateful response I could've said into my gaze. And then I reply with a simple, "Yes." I lift the vial to my lips again and tilt my head back, but my parasite steals the vial away before any of the liquid death can slip into my mouth. It isn't fair. Why can he grasp things that are corporeal, when he most certainly isn't?

"No." He says, as he puts the stopper back into the vial of poison and begins spinning it between his fingers.

"Give it back." I tell him half-heartedly. I feel numb again. I'm not concerned...there are other ways to commit suicide.

"Death is permanent, landlord." He hisses angrily.

"And so are you." I whisper, standing and going to press my hands to the cold window, looking out at the slowly falling snow outside.

"...Not exactly." He says, and he sounds so...resigned. It's the only word I can put to it. There's a flicker of something in me, something warm, something hopeful. But I can't let myself give in to that yet. It's just another cruel trick.

"You won't leave." I tell him, I'm sure of it. I wait, listening for a confirmation.

There's a long pause before Bakura snaps, "Our minds being so closely connected, you would think I'd have caught on that you were trying to kill yourself sooner... I wasn't aware you were so determined to end your own existence. You know that a void is all that awaits you."

"What does it matter? Anything is better than this." I argue. Why can't he understand that I need to live? Why doesn't he feel the desperate need for me to be me, to not worry about what I did when I was not in control of my own body? Why is this so hard for him?

"I could…"

I look over my shoulder at him. Is he...? Could he honestly be saying that...that he'd...? I can't even dare to hope though. "What?" I ask him harshly.

He's looking at the poison in his hands, rolling the vial in his palm. His unruly white hair shadows his gleaming red eyes. His voice is calculating, as though he's musing the idea over in his mind even as he says it. "I could assume control of our vessel...less. And allow you consciousness when I have control." He glances at me sharply. "On the condition that you don't attempt to add your own death to our...list." He smirks. I cringe, being reminded of his unending cruelty. He continues, "Death isn't something you should play with. Take it from one who has died, landlord." I look back out the window at the falling snow. A compromise...I retain at least partial control all the time, but he still gets to take 'our' vessel on a joy ride occasionally. It isn't an ideal arrangement, and he could be lying. But if there's a _chance_ that he's being honest.

A small smile, a real one, traces my lips. "I thought death was permanent." I remind him, trying to keep my faith that he isn't lying in check. I can't count how many times I've fallen for false hopes. But I find myself believing that this could work for me. As long as he keeps the communication open, as long as he doesn't shut me in the dark again.

He comes up and hands me the vial of poison. "For you." He tells me.

"So I'll never be locked away, where I can't remember what you've done." I verify, looking at him seriously, searching his face and his mind for signs of deception and lies. For that sadistic amusement that would give away a ploy just to stop me from ending my own life.

"If that is what you want. You may not like knowing what I do though... And, no matter the circumstance, you must vow to never attempt to harm yourself again." He smiles just barely at me. "No more poison." He says.

I consider it, trying to decide, to weigh the pros and cons. What he says is true. I might not like what he does...but if I'm present then perhaps I can try to influence him in my own way. I nod, tucking the poison away in a drawer in my desk, knowing that I can't use it. "Okay." I say.

The smirk on his face grows, and I frown. No matter what deals he makes, I'll never be able to say that I 'like' the spirit of the Millennium Ring. "We have a deal then." He hisses, then he fades away into the Millennium Ring.

A few months later, he still hasn't broken his word. He speaks with me more regularly now, appearing in his ethereal spirit form often. I think he's under the impression I might still be trying to kill myself. The conversations we have are sparse, brusque, and nearly always awkard. We fight a lot. He's angered easily, I've found. I try to be patient, but I sometimes yell too. But...I haven't had any memory lapses. My life isn't a broken puzzle anymore. It's less like living with an unseen, unconquerable force, and more like living with a sadistic room mate.

I can honestly say that I still worry about him suppressing me again. I'm afraid of that non-living that was consuming me before. But, to myself, I've thought about what he said to me. He was concerned about death. It was a concern that I might actually _die._ So...maybe death wouldn't have been worth it.

In my normal life, aside from the strange double life I live with the spirit, I've managed to get my grades up again. And I even went to the counselor to sooth the school's nerves. It seems that the people at school were more concerned then I had originally thought. Especially Yuugi and his friends. They practically pounced on me when I returned to classes, asking why I'd been gone over the last few months. Needless to say, I avoided all their questions.

I'm happy again. I can smile and mean it. Everything seems so different, yet the only thing that's changed is him. He's let me live for myself and it's made all the difference in how my life works. Without the blackouts I don't have to worry about what I might be doing _unknowingly_, although I do try to stop any crimes that he commits, and he can't do anything about that without breaking his side of our agreement. It's a fragile agreement, but it works. Maybe someday he'll move on and I'll have my entire life to myself, but it's a step in the right direction.

I guess that's it. That's all there is. And one thing that I've taken away from it all is that...well, death... It's just not worth it.

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Review please! I edited it a lot, if you read the original. Like A LOT! In my first version Bakura completely eradicated himself, giving Ryou a life all to himself. I went back and changed it because I just couldn't see Bakura actually doing that. I think I found a happy medium! :)

REVIEW!!!!! Can I shoot really high and ask for **20** reviews? Wow, that's a high expectation for the dwindling YGO! Fandom, but maybe it'll happen! XD


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